


Dresses and What Daddy Says

by abbeyjewel



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Crossdressing, Crying, Daddy Kink, Forced Crossdressing, Forced Feminization, HYDRA Trash Party, Humiliation, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Rape/Non-con Elements, Riding, erotic crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 16:12:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3140612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbeyjewel/pseuds/abbeyjewel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The asset's Daddy comes to visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dresses and What Daddy Says

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imera/gifts).



> Thank you to [Yeaka](link) for beta-ing. All other mistakes are my own. 
> 
> I'm sorry it's late, but I hope the length makes up for it! It kinda got away from me.

Most people were put off by the asset’s dead eyes. Brock wasn’t. He saw it as a challenge. From the very first moment he saw the asset, he wanted nothing more than to make the asset cry. It took a while for him to be able to. First, he had to be promoted high enough to even get a chance with the asset. Sure there were the parties, and HYDRA threw the best parties, and the asset starred in most of them. But it just wasn’t what Brock wanted. And besides, the asset didn’t cry at the parties. It was abuse that he was used to, all pain, and therefore devoid of all reaction. 

So when Brock got **that** promotion, the one that made him head of the STRIKE team, and therefore in charge of the asset, it was the second best day of his life. The first was when he actually made the asset cry for the first time. It hadn’t been as hard as Brock was expecting, but it hadn’t been all the easy either. The tears were perfect, and exactly what Brock wanted, but they hadn’t made the urge go away. In fact, they only made Brock want to do more. To push the asset to whole new levels of agony. 

Pierce only seemed pleased with what Brock was doing. He couldn’t have known what Brock intended to do with the asset beforehand, as he’d never made his plans known. Since then, especially after the first time the asset cried, Pierce seemed almost fond of him. Of course Pierce would find out, but he hadn’t put a stop to it. He was almost… encouraging. And that was enough for Brock. 

Pain wasn’t enough to break the asset. It wasn’t even close. The asset went through torture as his training, and he was able to withstand almost anything at this point. So there wasn’t a point to using it, not unless Brock had a particularly bad day and wanted a punching bag, but hurting the asset wasn’t as satisfying as the other things Brock could do to him. Like his plans for today.

“Little girl?” he called. The asset, in the room Brock had set aside, his memory freshly wiped from the mission, didn’t even look up. It’s not like he remembered these games anyways. Brock could do the same thing to him over again a million times, and it would be bright and fresh for the asset. This particular play had quickly become Brock’s favourite, and even though some aspects would be new, the overall game was the same. 

Brock moved forward and cupped the asset’s chin in his hand. “Little girl?” He asked again, his voice soft and sweet. Cloying, like rich thick chocolate. The wipes were thorough, but they still left behind certain little things that HYDRA allowed, such things like how handlers must always be obeyed. The asset always gravitated toward Brock, as he was programmed to obey Brock unflinchingly, but Brock liked to think it was because he was the type of man that commanded obedience. 

“Sir,” The asset responded, voice soft and hesitant, lifting his head. His eyes didn’t meet Brock’s, as he was trained long ago to do. He was dressed in scrubs. He only wore his combat gear when it was needed, and otherwise spent his time naked, or when prudent, in light-blue scrubs. They were thin and did the job, but of course now wasn’t the time for them. 

“Undress.” The asset stood and robotically removed the scrubs. They pooled at his ankles, and the asset didn’t even flinch. He learned long ago, before Brock’s time, that his body was not his own. It was a weapon and a tool for HYDRA. Some things, though, would sneak past that conditioning. The clothes landed in a pile by the chair, unimportant, discarded. “Good girl.” The same cloying and thick tone of voice. “I have something else for you to wear.” Brock pointed to the table that was off to the side, a pink dress, lined with white lace and ruffles was set out and pressed flat. The asset looked, but his face remained blank. For now. 

It was new. Not that the asset would know. Putting the asset in a dress was a new idea that Brock had had, and he was excited to try it. They had done the Daddy/little girl routine before, but never with such a prop as this. Brock had almost been tempted to bring lollipops, before realising that might be going too far. He wouldn’t be able to take the situation seriously. 

“Let me help you into it, sweetheart.” Brock lifted up the dress and guided the asset where he wanted him. “You say ‘Thank you, Daddy.’ When I do things for you.” Brock nudged firmly, slipping the dress over the asset’s head and down into place. Brock smoothed the creases in the back of the dress, before turning the asset to see him in it properly. 

It took a moment for the asset to say anything, to respond. “Thank you, Daddy.” His voice was soft, face shifting into vague confusion. 

“There’s my good girl.” Brock praised, sitting back into the chair the asset had been in earlier. He guided the asset forward to straddle his lap. Once the asset was in place and steady, Brock ran his fingers through the long brunette hair. It had been washed just for this situation. The asset was always cleaned up for Brock, just so he could dirty him again. 

Brock parted the assets hair evenly and secured each side with a tie. It was long, but almost not long enough. The hair ties had pink ribbons on them to match the dress, and Brock adjusted them until the ribbons faced him and were even. “You look so pretty, doll.” He praised. 

“Thank you, Daddy.” The asset said again, this time his voice wavered. The confusion was still there, as if the asset had no idea what he was doing or where he was. Which might have been so. 

He looked pretty with long hair. Brock had made that a special request, that they grow out the asset’s hair. Not too long, he couldn’t let it get in the way of missions, but enough so that Brock could play his games. He could put the asset’s hair into pigtails, or put clips in it, pretty sparkly clips, or just let it stay down. It was also good for gripping, grabbing hold of the asset by his hair to pull or push him this way and that. When the asset was Bucky Barnes, he had kept his hair short. Taking away the asset’s preferences for Brock’s own was just another thrill. 

Other people sometimes complained about the asset’s hair. People who were new and hadn’t known otherwise. They complained that the asset’s hair got in the way, that it was a tactical disadvantage. They were right, of course, but Brock felt the pros outweighed the cons. The pros, of course, were just for him. Brock enjoyed swiftly correcting them almost as much as he liked making the asset cry. Breaking in the new members of the team was just another plus to his promotion. 

The pigtails looked perfect with the dress. It was long, almost reaching the asset’s knees. It was mostly a persian pink, with white lace down the front, accenting his pecs into something more. The sleeves were short and puffy, and every edge was trimmed with the white lace. He looked straight out of Brock’s wet dreams. Maybe the lollipop wouldn’t have been too much. 

Pain did nothing for the asset, but humiliation and objectification did wonders. Already, just wearing the dress and the pig tails, had the asset confused and unsettled. His perfectly blank mask was breaking down. Normally, the asset was still and unflinching, but now the asset’s hands worked, as if they wanted to remove the dress or at the very least run his hands over it. A soft sound slipped out of his throat and he looked at Brock as if he could help. 

“What is it, princess?” Brock asked, stroking the asset’s cheek. He wasn’t being kind. Getting the asset to voice his own humiliations only helped Brock. The asset flushed and bowed his head, where normally a curtain of his hair would hide and protect him, now there was nothing. He seemed to realise this after a moment, that he couldn’t hide, and closed his eyes, lips trembling minutely. So minutely that if Brock hadn’t been looking for it, he would have missed it. “Tell me,” his voice went hard. 

The asset flinched and drew a breath in. He was taller than Brock, even sitting on his lap like this, but he hunched and ducked so he was looking up at Brock. He wanted to refuse, that much was obvious, but the asset was never allowed to disobey. “I don’t,” He hesitated, voice small. “I don’t understand. Is this my mission?” 

Brock chuckled and ran a finger down the asset’s cheek. The asset looked so pathetic and confused. He shivered at Brock’s touch, one of the asset’s weaknesses was a gentle touch after all. “Yes princess, your mission is to sit on my lap and look pretty.” This didn’t help with the asset’s confusion, and he looked like he wanted to question Brock, but of course he could never question orders. 

"You want to be good for me, don't you?" He asked, running his hands down the assets sides. The asset whimpered pathetically and squirmed, obviously uncomfortable, but not knowing why or how to fix it. 

"Yes Daddy," The asset’s voice was so very quiet. Brock waited a moment and the asset corrected himself. “Yes, Daddy." He said louder, eyes flicking up to Brock’s face. "Please." 

"My good princess." Brock reached under the assets hips and undid his pants. They were easy to get out of, no buttons or zippers, just a quick pull here and a tug that way and it was open enough to slip his dick through. "You're going to ride me today. Do you know how to do that?" 

Of course the asset didn't, but Brock waited for him to shake his head and mumble a "No Daddy," before continuing. 

"That's okay, Daddy will teach you. You'll be good and try to please Daddy, won't you?" 

The asset nodded quickly, eyes wide. “Yes, Daddy.” He was always so quick to please. It couldn’t be just from HYDRA’s conditioning. Thorough that it was, Brock got the feeling that it was just how the asset was, eager to please. 

“Open your mouth,” The asset complied almost instantaneously, and Brock slipped two fingers into his mouth. “Suck, princess. Get my fingers nice and wet. Can you do that for me, little girl?”. And the asset did, suckling gently at Brock’s fingers. His eyes flicked up to Brock’s face every few seconds, eyes worried and face flushed, as if worried he wasn’t doing it right. 

Brock already had a semi when he walked in, anticipating this all day, but now he was painfully hard. The asset, all prettied up like a wet dream, sucking on his fingers like they tasted of honey, and sitting on his lap. The asset wasn’t still, either. Normally he was stoic and still as a statue, but already he was squirming slightly on Brock’s lap, clearly uncomfortable. 

“Good girl,” Brock praised, just to watch the flush darken the asset’s cheeks. He stroked the asset’s hip, where his hand rested and supported the asset in place. Brock started to piston his fingers in the asset’s mouth, slowly pushing to the back of the asset’s throat, and then out again. The asset didn’t gag, was too used to blowjobs and other things shoved down his throat, which was a damn shame. Brock would love to have had the asset before that was taken away, have him choke on Brock’s fingers, tears streaming down his face. 

Brock slipped his fingers from the asset’s mouth just enough to place a third, forcing the asset’s mouth wider. Body memory kept the asset from using teeth. He may not consciously know how to do these things, but the asset’s body remembered. Using teeth and hurting his superiors would bring nothing but pain. Brock didn’t stop until his fingers were sufficiently coated, and the asset was making little whining noises with every thrust of his fingers.

“Tell me you want it, princess.” Brock tugged on one of the asset’s pigtails with his dry hand, a finger coated in saliva tracing the rim of the asset’s asshole. Of course the asset didn’t understand, and didn’t actually know what he was begging for, he never did. It was another thing he loved about fucking the asset. 

“Please.” The asset squirmed on Brock’s lap, moving both away from and into Brock’s hand. He didn’t know how to react, what he wanted. “Please Daddy, I want it.” He continued to squirm, face flushed and lips beginning to tremble. Brock didn’t relent, the asset could do better than that, and dipped his finger inside the asset, just barely, enough for the asset to gasp and his head to fall forward onto Brock’s shoulder. “ _Please_ , Daddy. _Please._ ” 

The asset let out a strangled noise when Brock’s finger thrust inside of him. Brock didn’t let him settle, and pistoned in and out of the asset, feeling him fall apart in his lap. He didn’t have to be quick, he could take as much time as he wanted, teasing the asset. It was the best way to get what he wanted. The asset was whining again before Brock added a second finger. He didn’t need to tell the asset to beg again, he was already. Broken mumblings of “Please,” and “Daddy,” 

Brock nudged the asset up and off his shoulder, not letting him hide anymore. This way, he could see the asset’s cock, red and straining upward, begging to be touched. Three fingers were now working the asset open and he was almost boneless in Brock’s hands. “Please what?” He hadn’t even touched the asset’s prostate yet, hadn’t stroked his dick once. This was what gentle, teasing touch did to the asset. The rest of HYDRA were amateurs. “We talked about this princess, you’re gonna ride me, but you gotta ask me nicely.” 

The asset was falling to pieces, but he wasn’t there yet. He was wordless, hips grinding against Brock’s hand, needing more. Brock stopped him, a sharp slap on his ass. The asset didn’t take what he wasn’t given. He whined, a high, reedy sound, but it wasn’t what Brock wanted. Brock pressed his fingers up and crooked them, pressing just so on the asset’s prostate. The assent jumped, and finally fell apart in Brock’s arms.

“ _Please, Daddy._ ” The asset’s voice was broken, trembling as hard as his body. “Please let me ride you, please.”

Brock smiled and slipped his fingers out of the asset. He cried out and clung to Brock like a lifeline, painful and hard, the metal arm clamping down and probably bruising Brock’s shoulder. Brock winced and dealt another sharp slap on the asset’s ass. He obeyed and instantly let go of Brock, whimpering and pleading with him desperately. He wasn’t yet crying, but he was close, _so close_. 

One hand ran through the asset’s hair and gripped it tight, the other lined up Brock’s cock to the asset’s hole. Brock slid in slowly, holding the asset in place by his hair, making sure he didn’t move down too fast. The only lubricant was the asset’s spit, from being fingered open. He didn’t need much, and the slight burn would be good for both of them. He was slow and steady and full of patience. Brock had stores of it when it came to the asset. 

Not even halfway down, and the asset was mewling and panting on Brock’s dick. He tried to squirm, to urge Brock in faster, but a sharp tug on his hair and the asset stilled. His noises didn’t stop, and god, Brock loved the noises the asset made. Finally, a tear slipped through, and down the asset’s cheek. The first of many for the night. He was so desperate, keening and shaking apart. 

A second tear followed, a third, and Brock paused to lick each tear away. It only urged more tears on, more broken pleas. _perfect_

When he finally bottomed out, deep in the asset, the tears were coming steadily now. The asset was shaking and whimpering, and he was just barely able to stop grinding his hips down. The asset was never quiet now, a litany of begging and whining. He was right where Brock wanted him. 

Brock pulled out slowly, up until the head of his cock was only left in the asset’s tight ass, and then thrust back in, much faster than the first time. The asset cried out, but this time the asset knew better than to cling to him. His hands rested on Brock’s shoulders, light and not pressing too much weight down, but they were squeezed into tight fists. He pulled out again, and back in, faster and faster until he had a rhythm he was happy with. 

The asset wasn’t pleading or begging anymore, he was only able to sob when Brock thrust in, tears flowing down his cheeks. His cock jumped every time, angry, and demanding to be touched. Brock didn’t, the asset was already overwhelmed. Touching the asset’s cock would do no more than have him orgasm more quickly, and Brock’s fun wasn’t over yet. He didn’t even try to touch his dick. The asset had, in the past, but was now sticking to his conditioning and hadn’t once tried. 

When he felt his orgasm rising in him, Brock slowed to a stop, firmly inside the asset. He sat back in his chair and panted as the asset shook against him. He kept the asset still, or as still as he could, and waited until he caught his breath. “Your turn.” He said finally, and before the asset could question him. “I said you were going to ride me, little girl, didn’t I? That means you do the work.” Have the asset torture himself on Brock’s cock, instead of making him do it all. 

It took the asset a minute to settle, to realise how much he needed to grind his hips down on Brock’s cock. The asset braced himself against the arms of the chair, not daring to use Brock as leverage, and lifted himself up. He slowly sank down again, muffled whimpers in his throat. The next moment he was picking up pace, lifting up and slamming back down as fast as Brock had been pounding into him. That wouldn’t do. He got in a few solid thrusts before Brock was able to stop him, gripping a pigtail and yanking to get his attention. 

“Slow.” Brock waited until the asset nodded before letting go again. If the asset were anyone else, his arms would soon shake with the strain, lifting himself up and lowering down at such a slow and controlled pace. The metal arm, of course, was an advantage. The other, was that HYDRA had conditioned him to perform optimally until the very end. Just because it worked in the field, didn’t mean it couldn’t work in bed. 

At first, it was nice going this slow. It was enough to keep Brock hard and let him cool down. The added bonus, of course, were the tears streaming down the asset’s face and the constant litany of begging. It was pathetic, and just what Brock wanted. He pulled on the asset’s pigtails, just for fun, trying to get him to falter. He wouldn’t succeed, but he just wanted to make things as hard as possible for him. 

“Look at how pretty you are, princess.” Brock cooed. The asset’s noises softened, in an attempt to listen to Brock better. “We should have kept the tactical makeup on, you’d look so good in streaked mascara.” Maybe he could get someone to put makeup on the asset next time, before his session. Bright pink lips, and heavy eye make-up. It would be messed up in no time, and the asset would look absolutely wrecked after crying in it. 

Brock leaned forward and licked a stripe down the asset’s cheek. The benefit of not having makeup was that he could do that. He could lick the tears off the asset’s face and not have to worry about paints or powders. And the asset looked so pretty already, eyes red rimmed with tears bubbling over the surface. Brock wiped a fresh set of tears from the asset’s eye with his thumb and pressed it into the assets lips. Obediently, his mouth opened and he sucked on Brock’s thumb, cleaning the tears away. 

“You’re so pretty when you cry.” Brock cooed, wiping more tears away and having the asset lick them from his hands. This was everything he had wanted in his promotion and more. 

Brock would never tire of this, watching the asset cry, squirm and moan, flushed red with humiliation and want. But there was such a thing as too much of a good thing. He moved his hands to the asset’s hips and the asset stilled for him immediately, still supporting himself on the arms of the chair. Brock guided the asset into a better position and began thrusting hard into the asset, setting the pace now, brutal and quick. Each thrust forced a high noise out of the asset, and pushed Brock closer to orgasm. The asset was still crying, sobbing, and grinding his hips desperately down onto Brock’s. 

It didn’t take long for him to come. Furious thrusts into the asset, and then he yanked the asset’s hips down flat onto his, holding him in place and grinding his release into him. He was panting hard into the asset’s shoulder as his release filled the asset, and then he was done, shoving the asset away. 

The asset fell off of his lap and into an undignified heap of pink and lace on the floor. He was pleading softly, incoherent words that Brock didn’t care to make out. It took several moments, Brock coming down from his orgasm, for him to realise that the asset hadn’t come, was begging for it, and he decided he didn’t care. 

He pushed out of the chair, tucking himself back in and securing his pants easily. Already he looked put together, and the asset, who was curling up at Brock’s feet, was still a wreck on the floor. The asset was looking up at him hopefully, like he was so sure that Brock would have mercy on him, would touch him sweetly until the asset came just like Brock had. He smiled down at him, unfriendly and unpitying. “Little girls don’t get to come like that.” He informed the asset, and without another glance back, Brock left.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment <3


End file.
